


so happy christmas (back on the bad list)

by toro (sapoeysap)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapoeysap/pseuds/toro
Summary: when your aunt helen asks if you finally found a handsome young man because it is about time -george is not an idiot, he just may have made some mistakes when making promises to aunt helen last christmas.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 107





	so happy christmas (back on the bad list)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AeternumSol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeternumSol/gifts).



> inspired by tags on this tumblr [post](https://weakling-grace.tumblr.com/post/189377045125)  
> the jumpers for the boys are [here](https://tororuhroh.tumblr.com/private/189724250664/tumblr_QOuUL7ocD8p3MLbOg)
> 
> this is a work of fiction. please do not presume I believe anything here to be real. And please do not share this work outside of ao3.

She kisses him on the cheeks, one on each side. he can feel the sticky lip stick stain his face. 'Georgie darling feel free to bring a girlfriend next year, no actually i insist. I’ll be heartbroken if you spend another Christmas party looking all sad in the corner'.

'Yes auntie' he replies, ever the obedient. but George doesn’t believe his own words. he hates Christmas. It’s the most isolating of the holidays, he's spent half of his life having crazy summers. winters away from home karting. Christmas’s spent anywhere but home. and when he's home he doesn't know how to show his gratitude. but Aunt Helen had asked, requested that he bring a girlfriend.

Except, it’s a year later, a new season now the past. And he’s still single. Which is the other reason he hate’s Christmas. The repression of his true self.

There’s a puzzle, a quandary if you will in being out. Out and an athlete. Sure, there’s some, but it’s tough. Not worth it, so he stays firmly hidden behind the veneer of falsehoods. Pretends girls are so beautiful in attractive way’s when he can barely only understand it aesthetically.

But here he is, December 15th and without a date to the Christmas family party, the Christmas family party in 4 days.

And then Alex. Oh so dutiful, Alex. Alex that he’s had a crush on for years but kept more repressed than his own repression. Alex that’s very clearly a friend. Who sleeps in beds with him and leans on tip toes for extra height. Radiates signs that George ignores because he knows they are just that, semiotics. Imagery put into his brain by the mush of the rom coms he consumes on the sly.

The Alex that has called. Not text, but called like it’s the mid-2000s, and asked if he is free before Christmas to hang. And George, because all the brain-cells apparently left him when he saw Alex’s contact photo (a picture of them stolen from Kym Illman) light up his screen. This George. Tells Alex, ‘why don’t you come to my family Christmas party?’.

Which puts us in the present.

George, in a slightly itchy cashmere jumper, standing on the doorstep of his Aunt’s house, surrounded by his entire immediate family, and Alex Albon. Who has chosen a dorky festive sweater that says ‘Meowy Christmas’, and has a furry cat wearing a Santa hat. George feels very out of his depth. Alex had brought a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of wine for the extended family, and George knows Red Bull money is good, but he also knows that whiskey brand is expensive. Maybe he’s regifting, Alex is smart like that, maybe Christian had gifted the stupid whiskey and suddenly the door is opening, and stupid Aunt Helen is wearing exactly the same lip stain as last year.

She seems delighted by the presence of Alex.

‘Georgie! No need to introduce us to this handsome man, hello Alex’, said man very politely waves. They are all still on the doorstep, in the cold. Every part of George wishes he could look at the camera like he’s on _The Office_.

‘Oh do come in- The Russell’s are here everyone’ she shouts back into the house. There barely inside the rather spacious hallway, before she’s pulling him aside to loudly say.

‘When I said bring a girlfriend last year, you very much, how do the kids say ‘one-upped’ me with Alex. What a handsome boyfriend’

And George takes back his “I wish I was on _The Office_ ” thoughts, because he can see the way Alex is flinching up in the background. Enough of a visible flinch that he can picture the way the camera would have dramatically zoomed in on Alex.

Because as George had um’d and er’d through the phone call with Alex just a few days ago, he had neglected to mention to the other man; The whole ‘aunt wants me to bring a partner oh by the way I’m super into men especially you’ thing. “Facts” a helpful voice in his brain supplies.

But then because apparently Alex Albon is a man used to rolling with the punches (Having Verstappen as a teammate will probably help that be a personality necessity). He very politely say’s, with his slightly winded anxiety voice. 

‘Oh ma’am, please keep it quiet though. It’s all very new. And obviously we can’t have it leaving the house’ And Alex is letting his Aunt take him through to the main room, handing over the expensive whiskey and wine. George watches his family follow with bemused smiles.

George finds himself in the hallway, pondering what exactly Red Bull press officers drill into their drivers that Alex can come up with an Albi that quickly. Someone rename him Alex ‘Albi’ Albon.

He steels himself and enters the family room.

Alex is already making nice, but everyone seems delighted to see George. There’s something bizarre about air kisses from some relatives straight into pinched cheeks from others. He’s like hometown hero, coming into songs and praises. At some point, when he’s laughing of a story about the crash in Singapore, trying his hardest to not curse out Romain Grosjean in front of the younger cousins. Alex meanders over with a two beers in his hand.

‘It was either this or Peroni and I am pretty sure I remembered you liked Heineken more’

Everyone coos as Alex hands over the bottle, and George doesn’t have the heart to tell Alex he hates Heineken and Peroni is his favourite beer. He takes a sip, smile fakes a grimace, and say’s for some stupid reason. ‘Thanks babe’.

Dumbass. They better put dumbass on his gravestone. In all caps. Because that’s what he is. D.U.M.B.A.S.S.

Alex blushes and chinks their beer bottles together. The Heineken tastes gross as it goes down, leaves his mouth feeling like the hangover he will most likely have to look forward to tomorrow morning.

Because adding on to the heavy weight of now faking a relationship with the guy he actually has a crush on, having to fake said relationship in front of his entire family. They are also staying at the house tonight post party. ‘You drive all year for a living you can stay’ and the entire family had agreed. Oh what a tangled web we weave. That’s the saying right.

It’s a new side to Alex frankly, they’ve never shied away from being close. But this Alex, in the soft glow of the Christmas fairy lights, is different to the Alex in the bright lights of the trackside.

There beer loose, and it goes to their head quicker than should be reasonable for twenty-somethings. Alex has a warm arm fondly wrapped around George, and George finds himself staring constantly at this strange new Alex the world has made for him. He’s so handsome, and George find’s he keeps getting jostled as Alex’s arm moves behind him, a hand talker as he is. They are slotting together very naturally.

‘Much happier this year Georgie, good things will come next year.’ He has no idea what his Aunt means at this point, but she says it with such conviction he has to believe.

‘Georgie’ Alex giggles under his breath. And then George, to further cement his stupidity, plants a kiss on Alex cheek, only to lean back and whisper in the other man’s ear ‘Don’t ever think about calling me that in front of Lando’. Like mentioning their other friend will distract from the fact he just slobbered a peck on his best friend’s cheek. Everything really is unravelling.

Well, the unravelling of George’s life, is about to completely unspool out onto the lush carpeted floor, when some cousin comes over with a sprig of mistletoe.

‘Couples kiss!’

This is like some Channel 5 rom-com bullshit, George thinks. There is no time, tragically, or not so tragically, to say ‘Alex you don’t have too’. Because Alex, who is rapidly showing more and more signs of having spent half a season in close quarters with Max. Put’s his beer bottle down on the floor, grabs George’s face with warm hands, and leans into plant quite possible the softest most tender kiss on George’s lips. So soft, and so tender, that George sort of forgets to kiss back. Just about managing to pucker his lips up for the connection as Alex pulls away with a big smile and adoring eyes.

He is so so fucked. So separates their entangled hands (when did that happen, he wonders) and wanders to the kitchen for another beer.

Slightly depleted rows of Heineken and Peroni glare at him from the fridge. He wonders if he chugs a Peroni in the kitchen, how fucked up that will get him. It’s probably not the wisest idea and he should at least make one good move tonight, and so as to not blow his bizarre fake boyfriends’ false comments about his beer choices, he grabs a Heineken and resigns himself further to this fate.

Of course, when he turns around, Alex is there leaning against the kitchen doorframe, with his stupid pretty smile and perfect hair.

‘Sorry about the kiss, it’s just your aunt’s so nice. I didn’t wanna disappoint her you know’. Alex’s familiar hand movements while talking are slightly more subdued. Though whether that’s the alcohol or just his mood, George is unsure.

‘Do you want to uh. Practice a little more?’ George of course, ever elegant, makes sure he closes his gaping mouth before replying to Alex.

‘Uh yeah. Practice that would be great’

The first, well second kiss is awkward and hesitant. But then George finds, they very quickly find their rhythm. Pinch him someone, he’s making out with Alex Albon in a Christmas cat sweater. He thinks he might die from the way Alex kisses, so soft and with little smiles. And then tongue happens and George maybe does die.

Resurrection comes in the form of an awkward cough behind them, his dad with slightly glassy eyes just outside the kitchen door. They pull away from each other, slightly reluctantly, until they are connected by nothing but a slightly disgusting bit of spit. Slightly inebriated kissing, such a glamourous art.

Eventually, the night winds down to an end. And they are informed they will be sleeping on the pull out sofa ‘oh by the way boys can you set it up yourselves thanks see you in the morning’ before his aunt pop’s back in to add ‘no funny business – the springs are already shot’. And George wonders if his face could count as a radiator from how hot his blush is burning.

So, they work in a silence, broken occasionally by giggling and hesitant looks thrown from across the two sides of the bed.

They had brought sleep clothes, but it’s at the point of tiredness, were just stripping off their jumpers and jeans to sleep in shirts and boxers is easier. Some sheets had been left for them, and George find’s himself concentrating very hard on making the bed up instead of looking at Alex in his Hugo Boss underwear, which is accentuating a very healthy package. Okay so maybe George takes some sneak peaks and has to turn around to very emphasis on very, discreetly adjust himself in his plain white boxers he got from Topman like two years ago.

Really, convince George who had sat miserably alone and hating Christmas, on this sofa a year ago that he’s now lying in, that he’d be next to Alex of all people. Well at least its not Lando or like. Robert or something. Alex is a good person to be next too.

Alex is saying something, as he rolls over to turn the light off. ‘This was actually really nice. We are so good at fake boyfriends we could do it for real for sure”. George’s stomach drops into that horrible drunk-sober feeling at Alex’s words.

‘Yeah. Night Alex’

‘Oh’ Alex says in reply, ‘Night George’. And George find’s he hates how he can hear the way the anxiety has creeped back into Alex’s voice.

Of course, he wakes up at some stupid hour, in the period of time before sunrise has really begun, desperate to pee. Except in the night Alex has become so tangled up with him. Extracting himself is a tough job, pray that Alex is such a deep sleeper.

And when he clambers back into bed, he can’t help but watch the way sunrise starts to creep through the gaps in the blinds and illuminate Alex in a different glow to the one of the Christmas lights from the night before. Alex moves closer and curls up around George’s body again. That’s when George knows he is truly fucked. Alex is handsome all the time, but in the innocence of sleep, free from the weight of existing, George thinks he’s the most beautiful thing ever to exist. Alex will never know right, how in this moment, George is pretending Alex is his and his only.

‘Stop thinking. Go back to sleep or come here and kiss me’

George makes a squeak of a sound.

‘Stop overthinking things Russell, its not all PowerPoints and fast cars. Sometimes it can be making out and watching sunrises’

Alex sounds very wise for a half-asleep man.

‘We can talk about it in the morning. But seriously, I didn’t get you a gift and I don’t want to be the worst boyfriend ever before I’ve even asked you out, so make out with me please Georgie’

George hits him with a pillow and then curls down against Alex again.

‘Don’t call me Georgie.’ Is the most eloquent thing he can come up with before him and Alex get very well acquainted with each other.

Alex interrupts the make out session by pulling away to say ‘I realise it’s morning now. And also, I don’t want to do anything naughty in your aunts’ sheets so, let’s go watch the sunrise’

They pull up and out of the sheets and into the cold air of the room, and that’s how George’s family come down to find Alex and George in each other’s jumpers, curled up in the duvet on the sofa with the curtains open snoozing away the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this could have probably been a massive scope of a fic but you know. I will do it in 2400 words. make it slightly crack-y because i remember george and alex are my age sort of thing. 
> 
> title comes from z berg ft ryan ross - the bad list*  
> *working title was 'otp:throat infection, christmas edition'
> 
> [tumblr](https://tororuhroh.tumblr.com/)


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